


A song no longer wanting

by EldOchFlamma



Category: Naruto
Genre: AU - Tolkien, M/M, TobiIzu Gift Exchange 2020, Very soft and very sweet, though Madara might lose years of his immortal life after it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldOchFlamma/pseuds/EldOchFlamma
Summary: An unlikely new job brings Izuna an unexpected change of scenery. But, against all odds, it turns out for the best.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Izuna
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85





	A song no longer wanting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raendown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/gifts).



> This is a Tobiizu Gift Exchange fic for raendown. I hope I could fulfil your prompt!

To say that Izuna had been suspicious about coming to the forest would be an understatement. The forest was the realm of the Senju clan, who were a notoriously strange bunch. It didn’t help that Izuna’s own family, who lived in the valley beyond, had had nothing but bad dealings with the wood elves. Their family feud reached back into the First Age, to the great wars that tore the lands apart and reshaped the realms. Izuna and his older brother were both too young to remember those times, and their father, who’d fought in those wars, was no longer amongst them.

Now there was peace, but the animosities remained on both sides, as the elves had a long memory. But for some reason Izuna’s idealistic and way too trusting brother believed it a good idea for them to start negotiating for a more substantial cooperation with their woodland neighbours. Naturally, Izuna wasn’t fooled one bit. He knew about his brother’s soft spot for the forest king since they’d met, by chance, by the river that connected their two settlements. But a childhood friendship meant little when their families’ interests came into play.

And yet here he was, entering the creepy forest alongside Madara and their cousins Hikaku and Sora, pretending like he was fine with the ever-looming canape of leaves above his head that shut out the last rays of sunlight the further they walked, wishing he’d had the foresight to write a proper last will – his pet cats needed to go to the right hands, if he was no longer able to care for them. Izuna was hyper-aware of the way the moss under his boots muted each of his steps, the thick foliage drowning out all sound, until all he could hear was his own blood rushing in his ears.

They reached a carved bridge at which two guards stood vigil, bows strapped to their backs and knives at their belts. Between them stood a man Izuna wouldn’t have recognised had it not been for his pearly-white hair – Tobirama, the younger brother of the king, was awaiting them with a mien like frost. Izuna had seen him but once before, when they’d both been much younger. The red markings on his face had not been there then, and he’d grown a good bit taller. Unlike the guards, which wore the muted browns and greens expected of a forest-dwelling people, Tobirama stood out like a sore thumb wrapped in the blues and whites Izuna would have expected to see on their kinfolk by the shores.

“Welcome to the forest, Madara of the Uchiha clan,” he addressed them coolly. “The king awaits you.”

“I bet he does,” Izuna couldn’t help muttering under his breath, and earned himself a jab into the side from Hikaku, who looked just as uncomfortable to be here as Izuna felt.

They followed Tobirama into the heart of the woodland realm, painfully aware of the sentries at their back. Really, it wasn’t like they were in a position to start anything, the mere insinuation that they might was more an insult to their intelligence than a safety measure. Entering the main hall was like being encased in a tree – the walls were all wines and leaves and jewels like buds of flowers worked in between. It was a dome-like structure, round and homely but imposing at the same time, and at its centre stood a throne that seemed like it had grown from the ground instead of being carved.

On it sat the woodland king, Senju Hashirama, whose long hair was ebony and whose smile was sunshine, and who wore the spring leaves on his brow and sewn into his green robes. He stood and approached them without hesitation, kind greetings and laughter on his lips, and stopped only short of actually hugging each of them in welcome. The contrast between the brothers as they stood next to one another could not have been greater, and Izuna found it hilarious.

What he found less hilarious was that after they all sat down on some questionable, mushroom-shaped sofas for a discussion that lasted no less than five hours and was filled with boring pleasantries and dancing around matters, the Senju king and Madara came to the conclusion that it would be a great idea to further the relationship between their settlements by having a knowledge exchange. One person of each clan would stay in the other’s realm for a while to learn their ways and share their own, as well as aide with any kinds of negotiations that might come up. The person of choice would have to be knowledgeable and diplomatic, as well as well-respected within the clan.

Izuna felt ready to scream when Madara had the nerve to suggest him.

But as fate would have it, Madara was just as good at getting Izuna to agree to things as Izuna was at wrapping his older brother around his little finger.

“I need it to be you,” he’d said. “You are not as quick to judge as cousin Sora, and not as gullible as Hikaku has been in the past. I know if you stay here you will look at the Senju clan fairly and will tell me whether this truce and any following trade agreements are a good idea.”

Alright, maybe Izuna had been a little flattered by the trust placed in him. Maybe he’d felt his chest swell and promised his brother he’d do his best to further the interests of the Uchiha clan. And maybe he hadn’t allowed himself to think of the downsides until after a week had passed and he was stuck in a foreign world with a foreign people, who were maybe not openly hostile, but definitely not approachable. His role was so broadly defined Izuna had been jumping from place to place looking at the most random things, from how the king’s council was staffed, to how the Senju clan worked clay and wood into all kinds of utilities for their use, to the kinds of herbs and spices the palace kitchen used on their dinners.

It wasn’t to say that the Senju weren’t trying to be hospitable – their king most certainly was, insisting he be called Hashirama and beaming in his direction whenever Izuna passed his way. He definitely seemed enthusiastic about the possible tightening of the clans’ relations. The fearsome lady with the bright red hair named Mito, who was guarding the wine cellar like a dragon his gold, was quite fun to talk to and joke with as well. And the manager of the archives, an old, stuffy elf who loved long-winded stories, had directed Izuna to quite a couple interesting reads.

But that didn’t change the fact that he was lonely.

Izuna missed his family, he missed Madara growling grumpily in the mornings, he missed Hikaku’s jokes and little Kagami’s shrieks of laughter. He missed his cats, and the sunshine in his face and the wind in his hair. The life under the trees was still to a point where it was no longer serene but stifling to Izuna, and he longed to go about more freely. But with the truce still so young, Hashirama had asked him to remain within the kingdom for a while.

At least, Izuna mused dejectedly, he still had his flute.

Having come down to the mossy bank of the shallow river meandering around the wood elves’ settlement, Izuna took off his boots and dipped his naked toes into the water. There were colourful stones strewn across the riverbed, making the water seem at times purple, then green, then blue, then orange. Taking a velvet pouch from the inside pocket of his tunic, Izuna pulled out the small bone flute, a gift from his mother on his coming of age day. He’d always been kind of interested in learning an instrument but couldn’t decide which one, and a flute had felt like a good start.

“It’s loud and sweet, just like you,” Madara had teased him, and Izuna had hollered and chased him all across the house.

Smiling at the fond memory, Izuna started playing one of their traditional tunes, letting the music comfort him. It was a story about a man hunting after the sun, and it was one of his favourites. The music seemed to echo in the forest around him, surprising really, since all other noise tended to be swallowed up in the thicket. Izuna closed his eyes and thought of his home and played until his fingers smarted and his cheeks ached from the motions. When he stopped it felt like a weight had lifted from his shoulders, if only a little, and things seemed less dreary.

Rustling behind him made him jump and turn around, spotting a flash of white between the leaves, but it was gone before he could call out. Huffing Izuna rolled his eyes. If the wood elves felt the need to spy on him, they may as well do so openly.

That evening the king held another feast – he seemed to really like those, just as he enjoyed a good drink and a risky gamble. Izuna wasn’t a big player, but he was always up for some fun, so he’d joined in on Hashirama’s games before, if only to see the king sweat if he hit a losing streak. In between the courses of the evening meal, Izuna could feel eyes on him, but every time he looked up none of the elders, who usually eyed him suspiciously, were bothering with him. It took him a while to spot the culprit this time: the king’s brother was watching him over the rim of his wine glass, and Izuna had no idea how he’d gotten him into a strop again.

Hashirama had actually pushed him in Tobirama’s direction, trying to recruit his brother as Izuna’s personal babysitter, but it had become clear rather quickly that the stern-faced Senju held little love for the Uchiha clan, and all his interactions with Izuna had been stiff to the point of cold. Izuna, who was, despite his brother’s best opinion of him, just as spiteful if he wanted to be, hadn’t been able to keep himself from sassing him in return. To say that Tobirama had been irritated with him was an understatement.

So it came as a surprise to Izuna that after dinner was ended and the dances and music were to begin, Tobirama chose to mention to his brother that their guest was an accomplished flutist, and wouldn’t it be a great idea to have Izuna play for them? Glaring pointedly at the white-haired menace, Izuna opened his mouth to weasel his way out of the obligation, panicked because he hadn’t played in front of an audience in years, but Hashirama was basically glowing with excitement, and who could say no to his big, pleading eyes? Not Izuna, surely.

So he gave in and played, and even though his fingers were shaky on his flute and he may or may not have missed a note or two, his audience seemed enraptured. After the first song came another, and a third one after that. Someone was kind enough to place a mug with mulled wine next to him, so Izuna could wet his throat in between songs. Izuna lost count of how many songs he performed, and of how many cups of wine he drank, but it was a good night, and on the day after everything had changed.

The wood elves smiled at him as he passed, some even approached him and asked questions about his home. It was like a dam had been broken, and Izuna’s play had shown them that when it came down to it, Uchiha or Senju, they all sang to the same music.

This change did help Izuna’s mood greatly, and so when he next spotted a blue tunic in the corridor leading to the archives, he quickened his steps and caught Tobirama just as he was about to enter an office.

“Wait up!” he called, and the white head turned to look in his direction. “I want to speak with you!”

Tobirama frowned but waited by the door and even allowed Izuna into the office. It was a large, circular room filled almost to the brim with books and trinkets, some obviously ancient, and some looking like experiments half-done. Izuna couldn’t help looking around curiously, not having known that the king’s brother liked tinkering. How very un-wood-elf of him.

“Was there something you wanted, or did you just come so you could ogle my workplace?” Tobirama asked him, but Izuna was in way too good a mood to be affected by his jibe.

“There was, in fact,” he nodded grandly, and clasped his hands behind his back as he continued to wander around the room, scanning the many curious items interestedly. “I came to thank you.”

When he turned to approach Tobirama once more, he noticed the ill-concealed look of surprise on his face and couldn’t help his smirk.

“Don’t look so shocked, Senju. I am quite capable of humility, and of telling when someone has done me a favour,” he chuckled, coming to a halt a polite arm’s length in front of the other. “Thank you for suggesting that I play at dinner the other day. It’s made my stay here much more enjoyable.”

Tobirama regarded him for a moment in silence, then nodded sharply.

“I heard you play by the river,” he said, answering Izuna’s question as to whom it had been that had sneaked up on him then. “And I knew anija would enjoy your music.”

“He did, I think he complimented me four times already,” Izuna grinned, and Tobirama let out a soft huff.

An awkward silence emerged, which Tobirama eventually broke, having obviously wracked his head for something constructive and non-offensive to say.

“Do you… play often?”

“Not as much as I’d like to, certainly,” Izuna answered readily, shrugging his shoulders. “Though I did play together with my brother sometimes – he’s quite proficient with the shamisen.”

Tobirama looked like he’d run out of questions to ask, and instead moved to rearrange things on his desk. Izuna could have taken that as a dismissal, but he was already here, and he was bored.

“So, what is it that you do, exactly? Do you collect historic artefacts for fun?” he wanted to know, following over to the large wooden desk that was covered in papers and books.

“I… collect some. The interesting things. Though mostly books,” Tobirama explained eventually, and gave Izuna another critical once-over. “You… don’t look like someone who is interested in books.”

Gasping in mock-offense, Izuna stemmed his hands onto his hips.

“Just because I look cool doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy reading,” he said pointedly, and the Senju made another one of those quiet, put-upon huffs. “So you better start showing me around.”

Unexpectedly he did, and unexpectedly Izuna had a great time. So much so that the gong signalling the evening meal came as a total surprise to the both of them.

From then on it became a common occurrence for Izuna to invade Tobirama’s office, and even though the Senju didn’t cease to bemoan the fact, Izuna could tell he didn’t really mind all that much. Tobirama was rather clever and could answer many of his questions regarding life in the forest, and once a certain familiarity was established between them, he inquired right back, making Izuna give detailed accounts of small ceremonies and – to him – insignificant parts of their everyday life.

The real fun began when Izuna was able to convince Tobirama to compare weapons skills with him. Izuna prided himself on being quite skilled with the katana, and his knowledge of archery was decent enough to land them dinners. The wood elves, however, were famed for their use of bow and arrow, and Izuna was keen to learn some tricks so he could impress his brother.

He was delighted to find that Tobirama was a fierce fighter, and not above being sneaky. They were unexpectedly evenly matched, a fact Izuna knew irked the Senju, who’d probably thought him easy pickings because he was a good half head shorter, and noticeably slighter. But he would take anything that gave him reason to tease Tobirama, as Izuna had discovered that he was prone to turning a hilarious shade of red when he was flustered, which Izuna secretly found delightful.

-

It was about four months into his stay in the woodland realm, and Izuna was sprawling over a chair in Tobirama’s office. He’d written another letter to Madara today, having made sure to send one each month. On those days he was always a little more likely to feel melancholic, which was rather unusual for him, especially since Izuna had begun making a good number of acquaintances in Hashirama’s kingdom.

“Why are you glaring at my ‘Histories of the First Age’, twelfth edition, volume five’?” Tobirama wanted to know from behind his mountain of paperwork, having somehow picked up on Izuna’s mood.

“Oddly specific,” Izuna mumbled, stretching his heels out a little, then deflating again with a sigh.

Tobirama’s white head emerged from behind a stack of document, just fluffy hair and one eye, really, but enough so Izuna could see his arched eyebrow.

“It is not difficult to tell when you’re in a bad mood,” he pointed out. “You normally don’t stop chattering, like a whole cop full of geese. Today, you haven’t said more than ten words to me.”

“You’ve been counting? That’s a little obsessive, my dearest Tobirama,” Izuna cooed, but they both could tell his heart wasn’t in the banter. “And I do not CHATTER.”

Tobirama sighed behind his paper mountain, and for a while after only the scratching of his pen on parchment could be heard. The sound was soothing. It reminded Izuna of home, in a way, of how Madara would sit on the veranda and answer letters, while Izuna laid sprawled in the grass and snoozed with the cats. He could almost feel the sunshine on his skin, and taste the freshness of the grass…

“You could play your flute,” Tobirama suggested, breaking Izuna out of his morose thoughts.

Looking over to his desk, Izuna blinked in surprise.

“Won’t that bother you?” he wondered out loud.

“No,” Tobirama answered quietly. “You play well. And it… seems to soothe you.”

Accepting this strange turn of events, Izuna pulled out his flute and sat up properly, and then indeed started playing. He didn’t make an effort to hit the notes loud, but instead kept the melodies smooth and soft and calming, enjoying the familiarity of the task. Then something occurred to him, and he paused.

“Did you suggest that I play at the dinner all those weeks ago… to lift my spirits?” he asked Tobirama, who remained suspiciously quiet behind his wall of paperwork.

Izuna smiled and continued playing, but this time chose softer melodies, some of which must be known to even the Senju clan, for they were tales of great loves of the First Age. Bemused by this, Izuna rolled to his feet, and proceeded to wander about the office while he played, eventually passing Tobirama’s desk close enough to be able to see the furious colour on his cheeks and ears. He finished his song and then threw his head back laughing. Tobirama sure was right – nothing was quite as great to soothe the soul as music, and especially so if it would fluster the fastidiously stoic Senju in his company.

“I heard you playing by the river,” Tobirama suddenly blurted out, his eyes still fixed on the papers in front of him. “I could tell you were talented, but the songs you played… they sounded so lonely. So I…”

He cleared his throat and shuffled about with the book to his left, trying to regain his composure, and Izuna found that incredibly endearing. Boldly he invaded Tobirama’s personal space, setting a hand on his arm and leaned in when he looked up, his uncommon red eyes startled.

“I was homesick,” Izuna sighed. “You are a difficult people to befriend, and I missed my brother, and my cousins. Your suggestion… it made all the difference.”

Izuna could see Tobirama chew on the inside of his bottom lip, and the Senju actually briefly looked over Izuna’s shoulder, as if he was trying to collect his thoughts.

“So… you aren’t homesick anymore?” he asked quietly, as is unsure if such a question was proper.

“I am, but just a little. Staying here has been so much fun, as well. I’ve learned so many things and seen so many more. I’m glad I got to experience this.”

Tobirama nodded, still worrying his bottom lip, and Izuna was close to pinching his cheek to stop him. Or maybe kiss him, so he’d have better things to do with his mouth.

“I see,” Tobirama mumbled. “Then you will remain with us a while longer, I take it?”

Izuna was sure the Senju would never admit it out loud, but he could have sworn he sounded almost… worried?

“Were you going to miss me?” he teased, leaning in closer, his long ponytail slipping over his shoulder and onto Tobirama’s arm.

The colour was returning to those pale cheeks, to Izuna’s grand delight, and he was close enough to see Tobirama’s nose puffing up slightly as he huffed the little annoyed sound Izuna had come to associate with him. His grin growing wider, Izuna wedged his free hand in between the armrest of Tobirama’s chair and his elbow, effectively hooking them together, though the position was a little awkward with him bent over.

“I will tell you a secret,” he murmured conspiratorially, and Tobirama immediately sat up a little straighter. “I would have missed you too.”

Izuna wasn’t sure why Tobirama looked quite as surprised as he did. Surely, with how much time they had spent together these last months, Izuna’s thoughts on the matter weren’t a secret? But maybe Tobirama was just the kind of person one had to spell things out to – a little like Madara, really. And there was one very easy way to answer the question written over his face.

So Izuna leaned down those final inches and kissed him, right on the corner of his mouth, which had been bitten to redness. He could hear Tobirama’s breath hitch, and then he turned into the kiss, ever so slightly, and it was the answer Izuna had been hoping for. He lifted one hand to place it on Tobirama’s shoulder for balance as they kissed again, properly this time, and smiled at the slight shiver he could feel. They turned to each other like a flower to the sun, and the next thing Izuna knew was that he was sitting quite comfortably in Tobirama’s lap, who had his arms around his waist in a firm hold and was looking at Izuna’s too-close face a little cross-eyed. When Izuna laughed this time, Tobirama smiled with him.

-

One month later, when Izuna wrote his next letter to his brother, he did so from the comfort of Tobirama’s office, his lover tinkering on another desk with some device he wouldn’t tell Izuna about until it was finished and working. In his letter Izuna suggested that the position of exchange diplomat be continued, if at all possible permanently, and that he would very much appreciate it if his brother could make it to the forest for a visit soon, seeing as Izuna was keen to introduce him to his fiancé. That, and Hashirama had been whining about missing his best friend.

Smirking at the panicked response the letter was sure to elicit from his poor brother, Izuna sealed it off and stretched his arms over his head, looking over to Tobirama, whose face was not only marked with red but black as well, since he’d unwittingly put an ink pen behind his ear a while ago. Izuna bit his knuckle to stifle a loud laugh and got up, making his way over to him. To Tobirama’s credit, he did notice him when he was just two steps away and looked up questioningly.

“I’m done,” Izuna informed him. “I was thinking about going down to the river to play.”

Tobirama hummed, but there was something soft lurking in his eyes, which Izuna had come to recognise and appreciate. He set his trinket down, as well as the pen and his other tools and stood, dusting himself off.

“I think I could use some fresh air,” he casually remarked.

“That and a wash,” Izuna teased, and grabbed him by the arm. “Let’s go.”

Huffing as if put-upon terribly, Tobirama let himself be dragged along, and didn’t once voice his disagreement.


End file.
